


Lost It All

by Koumorii



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 18:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13417257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koumorii/pseuds/Koumorii
Summary: Another story I’ve pulled from my FanFiction!“I breathe out, and then look down at him. "This phone call – it's, er ... it's my note. It's what people do, don't they – leave a note?" John pulls the phone from his ear and shakes his head. I can see the understanding fill his eyes. /'Cause I lost it all Dead and broken./”





	Lost It All

Title: Lost It All

Fandom: Sherlock/Johnlock?

Tags: Reichenbach Fall, Sherlock, John Watson, Jim Moriarty.

Author: That Rabid Fangirl aka, Rose

Words: 3,557

Lyrics From: Black Veil Brides- Lost It All (Go look it up, it's really beautiful!)

A/N: I got all of the quotes from here (yes, these are the actual lines, I felt like it should be completely based off of the scene): arianedevere on livejournal. I'd put a link or something, but no matter how I try to ff keeps getting rid of it. -.-

Thank you so much, I really didn't want to have to watch Reichenbach Fall again just to get the exact words. You're a life (in this case, heart) saver. Well, I'll leave you to it, sorry for the angst, it is the Reichenbach Fall and a sad song after all.

Disclaimer: None of the lyrics belong to me, nor do the characters, they belong to their respective owners, I'm just borrowing them for my own cunning plot bunnies.

Lost It All

_I ruled the world._

_With these hands I shook the heavens to the ground._

_I laid the gods to rest._

A rooftop, the final problem stood before me. Moriarty stood while I paced around the rooftop and spoke, his voice indicating he knew what was going to happen. What he was going to make me do. Of course I had known all along, well, not all along, but close enough that I had been able to prepare. He wasn't going to get my heart.

"All my life I've been searching for distractions. You were the best distraction and now I don't even have you. Because I've beaten you." Moriarty says in that tone that makes me angry. "And you know what? In the end it was easy." I stopped and looked at him, a raised eyebrow indicating he go on. "It was easy. Now I've got to go back to playing with the ordinary people. And it turns out you're ordinary just like all of them." He seems so disappointed. Well, I'm surely not going to be disappointed in the end. I know someone will, perhaps my heart. But I can't seem to care too much, not when he's on the line like this.

_I held the key to the kingdom._

_Lions guarding castle walls._

_Hail the king of death._

Moriarty looks at me, "Did you almost start to wonder if I was real? Did I nearly get you?" I blink, "Richard Brook." He grins, "Nobody seems to get the joke, but you do."  
I roll my eyes, "Of course. Rich Brook in German is Reichen Bach – the case that made my name." He looks over appraisingly, "Just tryin' to have some fun."

My fingers beat out a rhythm, the same rhythm that he tapped out in 221B. A code. Binary. Ones and Zeros. He looks over at me and smiles, "Good. You got that too." I shrug, "Beats like digits. Every beat is a one; every rest is a zero. Binary code. That's why all those assassins tried to save my life. It was hidden on me; hidden inside my head – a few simple lines of computer code that can break into any system." I say with a bravado that doesn't go unnoticed by Jim. He smirks, "I told all my clients: last one to Sherlock is a sissy."

"Yes, but now that it's up here, I can use it to alter all the records. I can kill Rich Brook and bring back Jim Moriarty." I say. He shakes his head and looks so very disappointed again, "There is no key, DOOFUS! Those digits are meaningless. They're utterly meaningless." I hate to admit, but I am confused. But the rhythm… He goes on, "You don't really think a couple of lines of computer code are gonna crash the world around our ears? I'm disappointed. I'm disappointed in you, ordinary Sherlock." I swallow, "But the rhythm..." Moriarty smiles slowly again, "Partita number one. Thank you, Johann Sebastian Bach." I look at him, trying to look for signs of a lie. "But then how did..." He cuts me off, "Then how did I break into the Bank, to the Tower, to the Prison? Daylight robbery. All it takes is some willing participants."

"I knew you'd fall for it. That's your weakness – you always want everything to be clever. Now, shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building – nice way to do it." He says, looking at me with a steely gaze. I look back, my face blank, but my voice betraying my confusion. Yes, I had prepared, but was this really going to go the way I had planned? "Do it? Do – do what?" He looks back at me. Ah. Well then. "Yes, of course. My suicide." He grins again, he really is a maniac. "Genius detective proved to be a fraud." I read it in the paper, so it must be true. I love newspapers. Fairytales." I walk to the edge and look down, assessing the four storey fall. It could be lethal. Moriarty comes up behind me and whispers, "And pretty Grimm ones too." His eyes remind me of ominous clouds. Danger. This isn't going to end well.

I decide to try, one last thing. "I can still prove that you created an entirely false identity." He looks exasperated, "Oh, just kill yourself. It's a lot less effort." I grow angrier; I grab him and spin him around. "You're insane." I spit out, my hatred for this nuisance showing through my façade. He laughs, "You're just getting that now?" I hold him over the edge of the building, he stared back at me with no hesitation, no fear. He really is a psychopath. "Okay, let me give you a little incentive. Your friends will die if you don't." he cocks his head, his voice mixing with his expression to create a sour taste in my mouth. I want to throw him over the side. But what he's said has struck me. My friends. I don't have friends…. I've only got one. John. I must have said it out loud because Moriarty is speaking. "Not just John." He whispers then, "Everyone." I blink, "Mrs Hudson."He seems delighted, he whispers again. "Everyone." I narrow my eyes, "Lestrade."

"Three bullets; three gunmen; three victims. There's no stopping them now." I pull him back onto the roof. Caring is not an advantage. Alone protects me. But, what was it that John said? Friends protect friends. I need to protect them. Moriarty looks over at me, "Unless my people see you jump." I feel him slip from my grasp. My mind is whirring in thought, I had a plan, I had an inkling of what would happen, all possible outcomes of this situation. But now I'm a bit fearful. I never planned for his gunman to be on them. What if they saw? What if they knew? John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, they would all die and this game would be lost. I look over at Moriarty with unrestrained anger. "You can have me arrested; you can torture me; you can do anything you like with me; but nothing's gonna prevent them from pulling the trigger. Your only three friends in the world will die... unless..." He trails off, his eyes looking over the roof in an absentminded way. I finish his sentence for him, "... unless I kill myself – complete your story." He practically beams, the sick bastard.

I sigh, "And I die in disgrace." Moriarty scoffs, "Of course. That's the point of this." He looks over the edge of the building, next to where I'm standing. Oh, how I'd love to just push him off… He turns back to me, "You've got an audience now. Off you pop. Go on." I sigh again and walk over to the ledge, I climb up on it and look around me. I try not to look down. It's so much more… frightening when you're on the edge. When you're so close to falling and loosing it all. "I told you how this ends." He murmurs from behind me. I accidentally look down and it's suddenly very hard to breathe. I know I planned for this. I know. But, seeing the ground, four stories below me…. Moriarty seems to sense my hesitation. His voice is soft, almost kind, but I hear the hidden threat. "Your death is the only thing that's gonna call off the killers. I'm certainly not gonna do it." He looks at me expectantly. I swallow around the lump in my throat. How did that get there? "Would you give me... one moment, please; one moment of privacy? Please?" He looks disappointed again. Why does he keep looking at me like that? Oh. I guess I am human after all. I'm ordinary. The very thing I hate. He sighs, "Of course."

_Then I lost it all_

__

_Dead and broken._

_My back's against the wall._

_Cut me open._

_I'm just trying to breathe,_

_Just trying to figure it out_

_Because I built these walls to watch them crumbling down._

_I said, "Then I lost it all."_

_And who can save me now?_

I have to think, there is something I'm missing. I file through my mind palace, no, no, no, yes! My face hardens and I smile coldly, yet it doesn't reach my eyes. I curse myself for being so foolish and human before. There is something. I laugh. A cold, rumble of a sound. It echoes across the roof. Moriarty looks at me with an expression akin to anger. "What? What is it? What did I miss?" he spits out. He's getting impatient, I can tell. He seems almost, uneasy himself. It's time I turned the tables. This is my game now. I quote him, ""You're not going to do it." So the killers can be called off, then – there's a recall code or a word or a number." I start to walk around him, "I don't have to die... if I've got you." I finish with a soft warble. And I do. I can see it. I've got him.

_I stood above_

_Another war,_

_Another jewel upon the crown._

_I was the fear of man._

"You think you can make me stop the order? You think you can make me do that?" he bites out, his eyes shining in his maniacal delight. I nod, "So do you." He shakes his head, "Sherlock, your big brother and all the King's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to." He says with an air of defiance. I growl and invade his personal space, intimidation does wonders. "Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember? I am you – prepared to do anything; prepared to burn; prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell? I shall not disappoint you." I snarl into his face, my eyes narrowed, my hands balled into his lapels. He just shakes his head, "Naah. You talk big. Naah. You're ordinary. You're ordinary – you're on the side of the angels." I scoff, "Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them." He looks at me, deducing my intentions. I stare back bluntly. I am doing my best to show that I'm not playing around. He breathes, "No, you're not." He blinks and closes his eyes, I unintentionally mirror him and he smiles. It's an insane smile, one my stomach tightens in response to. "I see. You're not ordinary. No. You're me." I blink, he laughs like the maniac he is, he's breaking. "You're me! Thank you!" He tries to hug me, and I raise an eyebrow. I'm not letting this monster touch me. It could be a trick. He notices and instead holds out a hand to shake instead. "Sherlock Holmes." I look at his hand keenly, and then slowly raise my own and shake his. I am confused. He nods, his eyes seem to soften, I grow more wary. "Thank you. Bless you." He looks like he's going to cry. He says something that gives me hope then. "As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends; you've got a way out." He blinks, looking at the ground. My stomach somersaults. "Well, good luck with that."

And then there's a gun, and he's pointing it in his mouth, and pulling the trigger and there's blood, oh god, there's blood. He's dead, not moving, I spin around, my hands going to my hair in agitation, now what? Now what?! There isn't anything else for me is there? This was how it was supposed to happen, all along wasn't it? I step onto the ledge once more and look around below me.

_But I was blind._

_I couldn't see the world there right in front of me._

_But now...I can..._

I see a taxi drive up, and a familiar body gets out. It's John. Oh god, John. I swallow and pull out my phone, I hit speed dial and it rings, I hear his ring below me too, he answers and I try not to let my emotions get the better of me. I push them away, like I always do. He was right. I am a machine.

"John." He keeps walking towards St. Barts. "Hey, Sherlock, you okay?" He sounds bewildered. I apologize in my head. "Turn around and walk back the way you came now." He furrows his brow in confusion. "No, I'm coming in." I begin to get frantic, he has to stay back, this won't work if he sees. "Just do as I ask. Please." He turns like I've asked and looks around in confusion walking back the way he came. "Where?" I watch as he walks. And once he's far enough away I stop him. He sighs and halts, looking around, "Sherlock?" I close my eyes and calm myself. This will be hard. "Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop."

His face is horrorstruck. My heart clenches. He breathes out "Oh God." I swallow again, my breathing hitches slightly. "I... I ... I can't come down, so we'll ... we'll just have to do it like this." He stares back at me, I can see the anxiousness on his face. He always did show his emotions too clearly. "What's going on?" I lick my lips and prepare to recite the hateful words I know I must. "An apology. It's all true."

John narrows his eyes, "Wh-what?" he lets out in a breath. I nod, "Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty." I say it nonchalantly, but inside my mouth is burning with the lies. John believes me still. I know he will, even when this is all over. He is a good friend. I look behind me at Moriarty's dead body. I turn back to John. He's in disbelief. "Why are you saying this?"

I spit out the words I never thought I'd say. "I'm a fake." My voice breaks, and I mentally curse my body and emotions once more. John's mouth is open; he looks like he's going to cry. I feel like I'm going to cry. "Sherlock..." I shake my head, I can tell my voice is taking on a tearful tone, but I don't try to hide it. "The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson, and Molly ... in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes." I swallow. Those words burned my throat like bile.

John looks angry now, he shakes his head. "Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up. The first time we met ... the first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right?" He's grasping at straws. I shake my head and spit out "Nobody could be that clever." He follows up with a soft, "You could." Now I do want to cry. In fact, my eyes seem to be creating tears as I speak. So this is what emotions are. No wonder I never liked them. I laugh, of course this moment, this final moment would bring about such strong emotions. I laugh softly and feel a tear slide down my cheek, and drip from my chin. "I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you." I sniff quietly, "It's a trick. Just a magic trick."

John has his eyes closed again. He shakes his head, he seems to be fighting back tears now too. And when he speaks his voice is quavering. "No. All right, stop it now." He starts to move. I tell him not to move in my strongest voice. "No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move." John looks up at me, he holds his hands up, "Alright."

I hold my hand out to him, I'm so sorry John. I kept repeating in my head like a mantra. "Keep your eyes fixed on me." He can't move. He has to stand there. "Please, will you do this for me?" He looks at me with confusion, "Do what?"

I breathe out, and then look down at him. "This phone call – it's, er ... it's my note. It's what people do, don't they – leave a note?" John pulls the phone from his ear and shakes his head. I can see the understanding fill his eyes.

_'Cause I lost it all_

__

__

_Dead and broken._

John shakes his head, his eyes seem to be searching mine. He's trying to find the lie. There is none. "Leave a note when?"

_My back's against the wall._

__

__

_Cut me open._

"Goodbye, John." I see him shake his head, "No. Don't." he whispers, I know he'll be broken. But he can be fixed. He can't be fixed if he'd dead. I have to do this. For him. For Mrs. Hudson, for Lestrade. I look down at him sadly. I drop the phone on the roof. I look ahead of me. I don't see it, but I hear John scream. He sounds broken already. I'm so sorry, I'm so very sorry. "No. SHERLOCK"

_I'm just trying to breathe,_

__

__

_Just trying to figure it out_

_Because I built these walls to watch them crumbling down._

_I said, "Then I lost it all."_

_And who can save me now?_

I jump. I hear John shouting my name again. "Sher..."

_I believe that we all fall down sometimes (Oh)_

__

__

_Can't you see (can't you see) that we all fall down sometimes?_

John hears a sickening thud and crunch as he sees Sherlock's body hit the ground. His vision narrows and turns to tunnel vision, and he tries to get to Sherlock. As he gets closer he sees the body, and he stops in the middle of the street. He's hit from behind as a biker runs into him, sending him to the ground. He hits his head and groans in pain, but resiliently gets back up and starts towards Sherlock's body again. He has to see for himself, he needs to… He doesn't know what he needs. He knows if he's really gone, he can't save him. But he needs to try.

_I believe that we all fall down sometimes (Oh)_ _Can't you see (can't you see) that we all fall down sometimes_

__

John whispers, "Sherlock, Sherlock..." Finally reaching the crowd, he tries to get through. "I'm a doctor, let me come through. Let me come through, please." Some people try to hold him back. "No, he's my friend. He's my friend. Please."  
He takes Sherlock's wrist, checking for a pulse. His hand is pulled away and people try to get him to move away from the body of his best friend. He reaches out to Sherlock again, just as medics is frantic. "Please, let me just..."

John slumps to the ground as his head, and the knowledge of what just happened weigh him down. He looks over at Sherlock and groans, "Nggh, Jesus, no." He tries to stand, but his knees are too weak. He breathes out painfully, his breath hitching and tears pricking at his eyes. "God, no."

Four people lift Sherlock onto a gurney and haul him away. John stares, face blank and eyes unfocussed. He manages to get to his feet and just stands, looking in the direction Sherlock was taken. Sherlock's voice echoes in his mind. "Goodbye, John."

_I believe that we all fall down sometimes…_


End file.
